


Tourney

by GoblinCity



Series: Dragonheart AU [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, M/M, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4773530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinCity/pseuds/GoblinCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one dies AU ficlet. </p>
<p>Five years after BotFA, Dale hosts a friendly competition between the three kingdoms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tourney

“Where is Bard? The qualifier is about to start,” Thorin groused, glancing at the Dale continent that gathered around the benches below the King of Dale’s simple throne. His throne held the place of peace between dwarf and elven thrones situated at the apex of the horseshoe stadium surrounding the practices fields that were, just now, converted for a friendly tournament. 

Bard’s children shifted slightly and Sigrid answered for the three of them, “I’m not sure, but Da’s probably around somewhere.” A diplomatic answer as she tried not to look at her siblings. 

“Oh yes, interrogate his children, Thorin. It’s a tournament, meant for amusement, not a diplomatic function,” Thranduil took great pleasure in chastising the dwarf, but there was truth to his chastisement, he felt quite protective of the youths sitting at the foot of their father’s throne. 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Bain added, then had to bite his lip as Sigrid elbowed him. Thranduil looked his way, fixing Bain with a piercing glance as he tilted his head in that animal fashion.

Thorin paid it no mind as Bilbo laid a hand on the dwarven king’s arm, “Concerned?” Bilbo was a practical sort and knew that danger still lurked, shadows and orcs and spiders.

“Only that I will have to bear the smug condescension of this-“ Thorin began, then saw all three heads of Bard’s children whip around towards him. His words fumbled for a moment, “-this …tree …lover.” The words tasted lame in his mouth and Thorin rolled his own eyes before settling into his throne. Bilbo relaxed slightly at Thorin’s side and turned his own attention to the field. 

“Never mind him, he’s only prematurely wallowing in his loss,” Thranduil, master baiter of Mirkwood, couldn’t help but get in the last dig. 

Thorin turned to retort but the trumpets blew on the field, heralding the start of the archery qualifier. 

Kili and Legolas were among the competitors, Kili being the only dwarf, though a fair few other elves and men lined up to participate. Tauriel, having already won the day prior in swordsmanship was not competing, deciding to give Legolas a chance at winning. Two days prior, Dwalin had taken the melee combat contest, though Bifur had given him surprising competition. 

Thranduil was rather looking forward to his son owning this win and lording the double triumph over Thorin. None could compete with elven archers, in his opinion. He hazarded another glance to Bard’s empty throne and a frown turned down one corner of his mouth. The Elvenking had looked forward to sharing commentary with the King of Dale during this particular leg of the tourney. He mourned his loss with another goblet of wine.

The arches lined up fifty yards from the targets, when the marshal of the competition gave the signal, they all shot. Legolas didn’t bother to look at the target, instead, smiled at Tauriel in the stands and hit the mark dead on. Kili frowned at that, and instead of aiming at his own target; shot at Legolas’ target, splitting his arrow neatly down the center. He turned and gave a flourishing bow in Tauriel’s direction.

“Hah!” Fili cried out, slapping the rail before him and grinning over at Thorin. 

“They’re very… impressive,” Bilbo was indeed impressed, though wondered if it was not unwise to be so showy so soon. The competition wasn’t a serious one, but pride was obviously on the line. 

“Impressive is not the term I would use,” Tauriel added, though there was a faint flush to her cheeks and a leaf green pin was conspicuously placed on the shoulder of Kili’s coat. 

“What is the term you would use?” Thranduil asked idly.

“Whatever term encompasses them whipping out and measuring-“ Tauriel started, tone smug. She cut herself off abruptly as Tilda and Bain looked to her in curiosity.

“Whipping out and measuring what?” Tilda asked in all her innocence and Thranduil stopped a laugh by taking a very long drink.

“Arrows!” Tauriel replied rather loudly. Kili snorted and Tauriel gave him an unkind look. “Measuring arrows. The size of arrows.” 

“The thickness of arrows matters too, I should think,” Kili unhelpfully added. 

“Da’s arrow is the largest,” Bain saw the black arrow daily, it had been fetched from the dragon’s body in the lake and hung over their mantle now. Tilda nodded her agreement vigorously. 

“Oh- that’s-“ Tauriel looked to Kili, who looked away, trying to contain his laughter, then looked to Thranduil who was doing an excellent job of ignoring her plight.

Thranduil refilled his wine goblet. 

“Next round!” Bilbo suddenly missed the Shire and the polite conversation to be had among hobbits.

The targets were pulled back a hundred meters this time and fewer contestants were lined up, only those who hit the bullseye from the first round had advanced on. The marshal gave his signal and the contestants nocked their arrows, then drew and fired. 

Kili shot first, hitting the target dead center, then turned to raise a hand towards Tauriel. Legolas quirked one corner of his mouth then nocked two arrows in his bow and shot them. One arrow hit his target’s bullseye straight on, the other split Kili’s arrow down the center to the bullseye of Kili’s target. 

Legolas turned to the stands and raised his bow in triumph; Thranduil raised his goblet at his son in acknowledgement of a job well done.

“They’re paying more attention to each other than to the competition,” Tauriel shook her head. How did she end up surrounded by showoffs? Kili and Legolas seemed to bring it out in each other.

“Jealous?” Fili grinned and caught one of Tauriel’s elbows to the stomach. 

Only a few remained this time, Legolas, Kili, two other elves and a man wearing a dark leather coat with the hood pulled up.

The targets remained in their current position; only a mechanism was added to each remaining contestant’s target. Three rings of different sizes, moving at different speeds were set atop on poles that swayed by some clockwork mechanism the dwarves had made for their own training.

Legolas shot first, three arrows right in a row, the first arrow went through only the first ring, the second through two rings and the third through all three, each splitting the other down the middle. 

Kili scoffed and fired next, three arrows of his own, but all three going through all three rings, each splitting the other in turn. He grinned again and turned towards the stands, fingers touching over Tauriel’s favor as he bowed slightly to her. She tried very hard not to flush.

Fili elbowed her in the stomach this time. The blush cleared up rather quickly as she stepped on his foot.

“Children,” Thranduil called to them. “I’m trying to watch my son win, do keep it down.”

Thorin scoffed and Bilbo spoke before Thorin could open his mouth, “No matter who wins, they are both very fine archers. All of them, really.” For there were still two others in the competition- one elf- Bilbo thought his name was Feren and the hooded man in black leathers.  
Horses were brought out for the next challenge and the targets were taken down and new targets put up. The marshal gave the rules for the next challenge, each contestant would take turns mounting the horse and riding across the field. Targets would pop up at various intervals and rider would need to hit each one without breaking stride.

Feren went first, galloping down the length and hitting each target as it popped up. Kili went next, mounting the pony one handed and spurring the creature on, then standing in the saddle to shoot. Legolas went next, he mounted the horse, and then hooked his leg to hang upside down over one side, riding and shooting in a most awkward position. The man went next; he mounted and rode the horse easily, guiding it by thighs alone and shooting clean, perfunctory shots. 

When the marshal went out to tally the shots, only two moved forward. 

Kili and Legolas were out. 

They grumbled good naturedly, shouldering at each other as they headed for the stands to watch the last round. Tauriel made space between Fili and herself, sliding her hand over Kili’s bracer and offering him a smile. 

Fili was not so gentle, “At least you didn’t lose to that one.” And nodded at Legolas.

He looked rightly affronted and slumped down on Tauriel’s other side, “No soft words for me from any quarter, it seems.” 

Thranduil toed Legolas with the point of his boot; “Showing off is well and good if you can follow through on it.” Then inclined his head, “You did well.” 

“You both did very well,” Bilbo was rightfully impressed and attempted to soothe any ire.

Then Thorin spoke, “And your loss was closest to center, I think.” 

“A loss is yet a loss,” Thranduil replied easily and refilled his glass of wine. 

“Trying counts for a lot,” Tilda said, looking over her shoulder at Thranduil.

Thranduil could say very little to that and instead inclined his head to her and took a long drink of his wine, fairly feeling Thorin’s stare boring into his head. There was not enough wine in Dale to make that insufferable dwarf tolerable. 

“Here, the last challenge,” Kili was rather interested to see who won, the elf or the man. He had a bit of a suspicion who the man was but did wonder as to the motives…

The final test involved a machine that threw clay discs up into the air and a resting target two hundred meters away. Each contestant was to hit as many targets and in the center as they could, then hit the final stationary target before the last clay target touched the ground.

Feren shot first, five clay discs spinning in the air, he shot through each of them, then hit the stationary target, slightly left of center. Feren let out a breath and smoothed his hair, stepping aside and waiting.

The man stepped up and the clay discs were launched. He was decisive, slower than the elf, obviously, but with an economy of motion and precision born of experience and need, not leisure. Before the last clay target hit the ground, he shot off a final arrow and pierced the stationary target. 

The marshal stepped over and raised his hand, “The winner!” 

The man outstretched his arms and gave a slight bow, reaching up with one hand to take off his hood. Bard the King of Dale had won the day for the men. 

Sigrid, Tilda and Bain were on their feet, cheering and clapping, but Bard looked to Thranduil and tilted his head. In reply, Thranduil inclined his own head ever so slightly. Bard signaled for the groom to bring the competition horse over and Bard mounted it. He rode out to the target to pluck out his winning arrow, and then rode slowly, purposefully towards the apex of the stadium, where the three thrones sat. 

The noise of the crowd quieted as Bard approached, reining his horse to put his flank even with the side rail. He took the arrow in both hands, offering it across his palms to Thranduil, head bowed. Thranduil rose and moved to the railing. With one hand he reached down and took up the arrow, allowing the tips of his fingers to trail over Bard’s palms. He brought the arrow to his chest, just over his heart and gave a slight bow. 

Bard smiled up at him and Thranduil smirked, stepping back and taking his seat once more. Spurring the horse, Bard headed back to hand it off to the groom. 

Thorin just looked from Thranduil back over to Bard’s retreating figure. 

Kili frowned, “Okay, but what just happened?”

Tauriel elbowed him in the stomach.


End file.
